Free The Mike Hammer Collection by Mickey Spillane Page A

gal could be murder when she wanted to. I didn’t bother to say anything more, but walked into my office. Velda had laid out a clean shirt for me, and an unwrinkled tie. Sometimes I thought she was a mind reader. I kept a few things handy for emergencies, and she generally knew when that would be.
    At a washbowl in the corner I cleaned up a bit, then got into my shirt. Ties always were a problem. Usually Velda was on hand to help me out, but when I heard the door slam I knew I’d have to go it alone.
    Downstairs I stopped in at the bar and had a few quick ones. The clock on the wall said it was early, so I picked out an empty booth and parked to spend a few hours. The waiter came over and I told him to bring me a rye and soda every fifteen minutes. This was an old custom and the waiter was used to it.
    I dragged a list from my pocket and jotted down a few notes concerning Mary Bellemy. So far, the list was mainly character studies, but things like that can give a good insight into a crime. Actually, I hadn’t accomplished much. I had made the rounds of the immediate suspects and had given them a good reason to sweat.
    The police were doing things in their own methodical way, no doubt. They certainly weren’t the saps a lot of newshawks try to make them. A solution to murder takes time. But this murder meant a race. Pat wasn’t going to get the jump on me if I could help it. He’d been to the same places I had, but I bet he didn’t know any more.
    What we were both searching for was motive. There had to be one—and a good one. Murder doesn’t just happen. Murder is planned. Sometimes in haste, but planned nevertheless.
    As for the time element, George Kalecki had time to kill Jack. So did Hal Kines. I hated to think of it, but Charlotte Manning did too. Then there was Myrna. She too could have circled back to do it, leaving time to get home unnoticed. That left the Bellemy twins. Perhaps it was accidental, but they established their arrival time by letting the super open the door for them. Nice thinking if it was deliberate. I didn’t bother to ask whether they left again or not. I knew the answer would be negative. Twins were peculiar; they were supposed to be uncannily inseparable. I’ve noticed it before in other sets, so these two wouldn’t be any different. If it came to it they would lie, cheat or steal for each other.
    I couldn’t quite picture Mary Bellemy as being a nymphomaniac though. From all I’ve read of the two, they were sweet and demure, not young, not old. They kept strictly to themselves, or at least that’s what the papers said. What a woman will do when she’s alone with a man in her room is another thing. I was looking forward to seeing Esther Bellemy. That strawberry birthmark ought to prove sort of interesting.
    Then there was the potshot at Kalecki. That stumped me. The best thing to do was to take a run uptown and check up on his contacts. I signaled the waiter over and asked for a check. The guy frowned at me. I guess he wasn’t used to me leaving after so few.
    I got in my car and drove to the Hi-Ho Club. It used to be a bootleg spot during Prohibition, but changed into a dingy joint over the years. It was a very unhealthy spot for strangers after dark, but I knew the Negro that ran the joint. Four years ago he had backed me up in a little gunplay with a drunken hood and I paid him back a month later by knocking off a punk that tried to set him for a rub-out when he refused to pay off for protection. My name goes pretty strong up that way and since then they let him strictly alone to run his business any way he pleased. In this racket it’s nice to have connections in places like that.
    Big Sam was behind the bar. He saw me come in and waved to me with a wet rag over a toothy grin. I shook hands with the guy and ordered a brew. The high yellow and the tall coal black next to me were giving me nasty looks until they heard Big Sam